A Chance Encounter
by SnuggyLoveyFoofie
Summary: A space-time glitch, reminiscent of the events of "The Dark Side of the SWAT Kats", causes you to meet an uncharacteristically scared and vulnerable Chance Furlong. A mixture of 2nd person (POV) and 3rd person.
1. Introduction - A Glitch

The light was blinding. It harshly illuminated Chance's face, forcing him to squint. With his paw he frantically groped for the object of his search as he battled the sting of the light in his retinas. Upon locating it, he immediately relaxed. Sighing exhaustedly, he removed the cold can of milk from the refrigerator, slamming the door shut and depriving the kitchen of the bright light which had just been flooding it. Popping open the can, the heavy kat trudged into the musty living room. His paws rubbed against the carpet, the old floor subtly creaking with many of his steps. He eyed his weathered old sofa in the center of the room and trudged over before collapsing onto it. Taking a swig of his beverage, he snatched a grubby television remote from the floor.

The television set came to life when he sluggishly aimed the remote at it and depressed the power button. It displayed the channel it had been showing last time it had been used. Chance watched lazily as a weather anchor droned. Whatever she was talking about wasn't his main focus, however. He instead watched the time of day displayed on edge of the text ticker on the bottom of the screen. "10:57 PM," it read. Some of the information the anchor presented was passively absorbed by Chance as he eagerly awaited the change of the hour. She was mentioning something concerning an anticipated thunderstorm later at night in the general region of Chance's residence. At last, the clock displayed "11:00 PM" just before the news channel switched to its periodic display of ads.

Thumbing the "Channel Up" button on the remote he was clutching he cycled through channels. Various programming quickly flashed in front of his eyes. Finally he stopped on the channel he had been anticipating. "Channel 214," the television display blinked. He smiled weakly as the theme of his favorite show started. This was just what he needed. A new episode of "Scaredy Kat" was airing and he was watching its premier. Despite his exhausted state, Chance was enthusiastic and his eyes had a glint of energy in them as the colors emanating from the television bathed his face in a subtle light.

Though weathered, grubby, and tired from another typical day of saving Megakat City, Chance broke out in deep laughter as he watched the misadventures of the character. With each roll of laughter, the large form of the amused kat audibly stressed the sofa on which he slouched. Nearly a half-hour passed until the show concluded and credits began to display. A refreshed-looking Chance groaned contentedly and struggled against his weight and fatigue to get up off of the couch. Once he was standing up, he powered off the television and placed the remote on the sofa.

He looked around at his living room. Though musty and rugged, the place was comfortable, and after years of residence he had grown to love the old home adjoined to the repair shop. Chucking his now-empty bottle of milk into a trash bin as he walked by the kitchen, he made his way to his room. Jake's light snore was audible from down the hall, where he had been sleeping in his room ever since the two Swat Kats had returned from their day's work. Already, the muffled sound of distant thunder could be heard, affirming the weather channel's prediction of a thunderstorm. Chance made his way into his bedroom and collapsed onto his bed, not bothering to remove his jeans and tee-shirt. He rapidly fell asleep to the relaxing low noises of the distant thunderstorm.

The storm drew closer as the Swat Kats got their much-needed sleep. A light rain shower started, and droplets sprinkled against the windows of their home. Time went on, and the light rain increased to a mild downpour, the claps of thunder becoming louder and flashes of lightning began to appear not too far from the house. Suddenly, a relatively close bolt struck a power line several blocks away from where the two kats were sleeping. The digital clock propped up on Chance's clock face went from displaying "01:47 AM" to useless blank screen. The sound of the refrigerator's humming cooling unit coming from the kitchen wound down as the heating vents around the house shut off. However, both kats slept through this power-out, being exhausted and accustomed to the occasional storm.

Rapidly, the intensity of the storm picked up. Large drops began to strike the house as strong gusts of wind shook the entire structure threateningly. Flashes of lightning increased in frequency and proximity. The thunderstorm was developing directly over the Swat Kats heads, and their sleep cycles were becoming interrupted as loud claps of thunder caused loose items in their rooms to shake. Just as Chance and Jake began to stir from their slumber, a bolt of lighting hit the side of the Swat Kats' residence, inches from where Chance's head rested by the window.

Chance's senses were entirely overloaded. His vision showed him nothing but unnaturally bright white, and his ears presented his brain with a sharp, incessant ringing. As he wildly flailed for a few moments, the only thing he could feel was the frantic pulsing of his heart as he tried to make sense of what was happening. Slowly, he calmed down, and began to sort out his thoughts. "Ouch...", he spoke aloud. Being more stable, the dazed kat decided to try to sort out what had happened.

Opening his eyes, he yelped in shock when he realized that he was somewhere entirely foreign to him. He thought back to a particular time when he had been flying the Turbokat innocently testing a new radar system, only to encounter a bright flash of light and wake up in an entirely separate universe. Only, that time, he hadn't been so alone and cold.

The surroundings were bleak and unfamiliar. It was night, and Chance was within a fairly dense forest, with no sense of direction and nothing but trees to see. He was sprawled out underneath an oak, bruised from the impacts resulting from his flailing. Luckily, the moon was bright, and his surroundings were visible for the most part. Painfully propping himself up against the nearby tree, Chance shivered from the cold and staggered in an attempt to stand up. Finally successful, he carefully scanned the forest, listening for any hostile creatures with his hyper-sensitive ears.

Deciding that the immediate area was safe, he confidently walked in an entirely arbitrary direction, convincing himself that if he simply walked he might find some clue about where he was. Walking was painful and Chance only wanted to be back at the garage in his bed, but with no other option he pressed onwards. Despite his initial confidence, he became more and more downcast as he pushed onwards, as the forest was virtually unchanging , everywhere he walked appearing the same as it did ten minutes ago.

After half an hour of uneventful and discouraging blundering, Chance came to a halt and leaned against a tree, not having a clue of what he should do. But suddenly, his ears perked up as he heard a distant noise that was faint even for him. Though no human would have been able to detect it, Chance could easily tell that it was out of place and mechanical. His hopes raised, he dashed in the direction of the anomaly, hoping to find civilization.


	2. Chapter 1 - Typical Friday

You get behind the wheel of your car and start the engine, exhausted from a long Friday at work. Your manager had scolded you earlier for "horribly irresponsible time managining". Admittedly, you had indeed spent more than enough time viewing a number of YouTube videos... but still, being chewed out was painful. Pulling out of the parking lot, you watch smugly as the office building disappears from your sight. Two whole days of weekend to enjoy away from that dismal place! You push your speed up a few notches as you make your way onto the highway, perhaps exceeding the speed limit just a little in your excitement to return to your home.

Your mind wanders as you proceed as fast as reasonable with the rush-hour traffic clogging the highway. At first, your thoughts consist of regret for not regarding your manager's reprimands in a more serious light. Naturally, you become bored of this serious thought, and your thoughts diverge to your YouTube escapades, and you recall a particular fan-made parody of the Swat Kats TV show that you had encountered during your video browsing. Humming the intro tune to the show, you continue driving your car down the highway. With the dense traffic, it's an excruciating drive, and you barely manage to not die of boredom before reaching the off-ramp. Familiar sights welcome you as you near your relatively rural home. Being situated in a forested, spread-out neighborhood, your home offers quiet relaxation and privacy. Its not the most attractive or well-furnished house, but you still love it.

Finally, you make the last turn onto the winding dirt road which snakes its way towards your house. The house now in sight, your heart leaps for joy: "free time at last," you muse aloud. Your commute terminates in your garage, where you shut off your car and leap out the door, slamming it behind you. Throwing open the door to your house, you dash inside, tossing your car keys onto their hook and making your way towards the kitchen. Rounding the corner, you spot your target: the refrigerator. But your Friday joy is instantly shattered when you realize that something is horribly wrong with your kitchen.


	3. Chapter 2 - Non-typical Friday

You freeze where you are, and time itself seems to stand still. A disheveled creature, evidently having been interrupted in the process of seizing the contents of your refrigerator, locks eyes with you from across the kitchen. Terror is evident in his eyes, which relentlessly stare at you, glistening in the light emanating from the frigid box containing the subject of his raid. Frozen in place, his hand stuck grasping the handle of the halfway-opened refrigerator door, his appearance is statuesque. But even this eerie quality is not remotely unsettling relative to what slowly dawns upon you. The creature is Chance Furlong.

This seemingly simple observation is so difficult to process that you're forced to dismiss the reality of the entire situation. Your mind desperately grasps for an explanation, for any feasible reasoning behind this situation. But your futile reasoning returns null, and you are unable to find an answer for what you are actively perceiving. So you are content simply to stare and wonder at your beloved cartoon character, inexplicably standing before your eyes, who stares back with mirrored amazement at you.

After a twenty-second period of time which seems to span dozens of minutes, the temperature sensor within the fridge triggers the cooling unit, thanks to Chance's terrified iron grip on the door preventing it from closing and sealing away the cold. The surrealistic situation is shattered with the powering-up of the compressor motor, and slowly time returns to its typical continuation.

The inexplicably real Chance releases the door handle, allowing the refrigerator to close. Still staring intently at him, you notice the intense fear and guilt in his eyes. As for you, however, you feel relatively calm. After all, you've watched Swat Kats, and know that Chance is a "good guy". No matter how bizarre and disturbing the whole situation is, the fact that you recognize Chance alleviates any fears related to the fact that there's an intruder in your home.

It hits you that your relative lack of fear is probably an intimidation to him. As far as you know, you don't have a TV show in his universe, so he has nothing to recognize you by. To him, your a terrifying hairless primate whose house he's broken into. Suddenly, his eyes dart to the sliding glass door nearby, and you sense that he's about to bolt for it. Frantically, you break the silence and shout before he can escape: "STOP! Don't leave..."

Chance's eyes widen in shock. Clearly he hadn't been expecting you to speak his language. Realizing that he has the ability to communicate with you, he actually relaxes slightly. "I know who you are," you exclaim. Speaking up for the first time, his voice is constrained and wavering. "Y-you do?" The situation is becoming much more comfortable now. Chance relaxes more, and you walk across the kitchen to talk more casually to him. You're even becoming excited at the idea of talking to a member of the one-and-only Swat Kats! Grinning, you enthusiastically affirm his question. "Yeah, you're a Swat Kat!" Your voice drops when you realize just how poor of a condition he's in. "You look hurt," you note with a tone of concern, to which Chance replies, "Let's just say I've had a very... confusing day." You nod, and offer him your couch for rest. Though you evidently haven't yet gained his trust, he's too exhausted to deny a rest, and falls asleep immediately after you lead him into your living room.

You stare at the sleeping form for several minutes, contemplating whether you've lost your mind, or whether something drastic and unexplainable has happened. Unable to make any conclusions, you change your course of thought and decide to take stock of what's left of your food supplies. Random food is spilled in front of the refrigerator, and a trail of paw prints shows how Chance had gone through the back door and made his way immediately to the food. You rebuke yourself mentally for your perpetual slacking in home security. That aside, you continue with your initial objective. A quick glance inside the refrigerator reveals that virtually everything had been viciously consumed, as if by a starved beast. Upturned leftovers splatter the shelves, and it generally looks like a tornado had occurred within the confines of the fridge.

You sigh, dreading the financial burden of restocking your food, but quickly you forget this as you realize that it was Chance Furlong who caused the food disaster. He did appear to be quite starved, and you're glad that he was able to find food, even if it meant stealing from you. Now back in the living room, you glance once again at Chance. Many questions are unanswered, and you perpetually wonder how Chance came to be here, not only into this world, but into your very own house. However, as excited as you are to talk to Chance, you don't wish to disturb him, and you walk to your own bed to attempt to nap.


	4. Chapter 3 - The Author Hates this Story

You walk back to your living room and look at Chance's exhausted form dead asleep on the couch. Out of the blue, his eyes burst open and he yells. "I just had a vision!", he screams. "Our universes collided because we're mere characters in a lousy work of fiction on something called 'fan fiction dot net'! The only way we can escape this universe and go back to our own realities is if we convince the author to delete his FanFiction account!"

Immediately you pass this off as a strange nightmare, and urge Chance to get more much-needed rest. However, he relentlessly pleads you to search for the work of fiction on whatever FanFiction may be. You quickly grab your laptop, and you huddle over it, brushing against Chance who stares at the monitor. Quickly you explain the concept of the internet to Chance as you browse the FanFiction "SWAT Kats" category for anything of interest. It doesn't take long for you to find a story called "A Chance Encounter". As you skim the first chapter, Chance's jaw drops as every event in his recent memory is described. His reaction unnerves you, as you don't want to believe that the universe you occupy is a lie written by some mysterious author. You nervously load the second chapter.

You're horrified. All of your recent actions, exactly as you remember them, are described in words. Horrified, you and Chance realize that your experiences aren't your own, that you're mere text on a lousy, poorly written FanFiction story. You only have one choice. Contact the author. You bring up a private messaging chat, and stare at the text box, wondering how to begin. Then something else occurs to you. "Chance," you squeak, "if we're just a story, that means that we're not actually making our own decisions, and that the author of this story actually wants to delete his story by writing about how the characters of his story escape the universe they're stuck in by convincing him to delete it!" Chance raises his eyebrows inquisitively, and asks, "So you're saying that he didn't want to confuse the readers of his story by merely ditching his account, and that he wanted to bring closure, albeit an abrupt one, with his readers by writing a chapter about how his own characters convince him to delete his story?" "Exactly!", you say. "Now let's send him that message!"

After some brainstorming, you and Chance decide to send this message to "SnugglyLoveyFoofy" on FanFiction:

_Dear author, your story, "Chance Encounter", is crap. Please delete it, because it's so dumb that I cannot tolerate it's existence._

You send the message, and wait patiently. Suddenly, you and Chance simultaneously have a vision. You see a boy in some other universe groggily roll out of his bed. His clock reads 10:00 AM, and it's a weekday. What a loser. His room is a disaster, and broken phones and computer parts are mixed in with the clutter in his room. Clearly he has anger management issues. He mopes around on the floor of his room, staring aimlessly at his ceiling. After a while, he rolls over and grabs something off of the floor. A strange, plastic looking blob. He caresses it, and begins to make typing motions on it. You realize that it's a broken cell phone, and he's pretending to type in a number on the remnants of the keypad. Suddenly he bolts up and throws it onto his desk, sending garbage flying. The already broken phone tears apart on the impact with the table, scratching the surface and sending its fragments flying. The author, clearly a mentally ill person in need of a long lecture on how to not be a depressed moron, walks out of his room and stealthily sneaks onto a computer. Clearly he's not supposed to be doing this, as he glances nervously as he signs into FanFiction. His eyes brighten as he sees he has a message in his inbox. He opens it, and you see that's its the message you just wrote. His eyes glaze over as he reads it, and his already gloomy appearance intensifies as he seems to agree with the message immediately. What a loser. He can't even stand up for his own story. You wonder if he's aware that he was the one who sent the message, because after all, you're a work of his mind, and if you sent the message, that means that in reality the author wrote about you sending the message and no message was ever actually sent. Your mind is boggled. You watch as he tries to search his account settings for a deletion option, but his search is fruitless.

Instead, he decides to sit down and write about what you've done over the last few minutes, including the vision that you're experiencing. Suddenly, the vision ends. You look over at a very confused Chance. He asks you if you think that when the author publishes this last chapter, you'll be free from this strange crossover universe when he changes the story status to "complete". You agree with him. It occurs to you and Chance that this universe will soon collapse and you'll return to your normal lives, and thus the actions you take will be of no consequence until then. So you and Chance do a bunch of crazy stuff like crashing your car and killing the president and making out. The end.


End file.
